


The Stakeout Was Called Off

by blktauna



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Bickering, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 13:01:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1649555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blktauna/pseuds/blktauna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>title says it all</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Stakeout Was Called Off

The shrill squeak of the R/T interrupted Doyle's train of thought.

"Christ! Not now!" he groaned.

He stretched over his head and pulled down his trousers from where they had landed on the bedstead. The R/T was not in them. He tried to get up but two large hands held him fast. "Bodie, gerroff..." he sighed.

Bodie's mouth was otherwise occupied and he did not reply. Doyle's arm flailed wildly behind him in a halfhearted attempt to knock the offending R/T somewhere within his reach. Finally, his flailing yielded success, as his hand struck something hard buried in his leather jacket. His fingers scrabbled blindly, until he pulled the jacket from the bedstead and onto his head. He grunted and swore. Bodie giggled and it sent shocks throughout Doyle's now shuddering frame. The offending R/T shrilled loudly when it was freed from its leather shroud. Doyle flicked the switch and panted into it.

"4.5,"

Bodie's ministrations were having their usual effect on him, causing his attention to wander and his breath to grow short. He held the R/T as far away as possible, but Cowley's disembodied voice came through clearly.

"4.5, I need both you and 3.7 to take over a surveillance job."

Spurred on by the chance of truly irritating his partner, Bodie flicked his tongue about in a manner guaranteed to make Doyle shriek in pleasure. It took only moments for the shuddering to turn into full fledged writhing. Doyle was chewing on his lip, trying to hold back his moans. Cowley's voice droned out of the small speaker, giving an address, and orders.

"I want you two to observe that house. It's a fairly straightforward operation, even for you. I want you to catalogue all visitors in and out."

Finally, a moan forced its way past Doyle's lips. It sounded rather like "Yes, sir."

"Doyle, you sound out of breath."

"Sorry, sir."

Doyle tried pulling on Bodie's hair to make him stop. It didn't. He dug his fingers into the mattress and tried to hold his breath. That only made him giddier.

"Is Bodie there? Och, you two stop playing about and get down to the surveillance site. Anson will brief you there."

Doyle dropped the R/T on the bed and finished spectacularly.

"Doyle? Doyle!" Cowley's impatience was clear.

Bodie snatched the R/T before Doyle's shaking hand could get there. "No, sir. 3.7 here. 4.5's gone and stubbed his toe. Will arrive at surveillance site shortly, sir. Out." He clicked the thing off and tossed it on the floor.

\--**O**--

"You sounded a right mess, you know."

"Me?"

"Yes, you." Bodie swerved sharply around a car going too slowly for his liking. "All that panting. Cowley's going to send you off for a little visit with Brian."

"Sadist... What the hell was I supposed to do with you blowing me while I'm trying to talk to the old man."

Bodie's tongue waggled out of the corner of his mouth, as it usually did when he was full of himself. "Was good wasn't it?"

Doyle cuffed his ear and smiled. They raced on for a bit in silence until a niggling thought came to the forefront of Doyle's mind. "Do you think he heard?"

The other man smiled and a look of pure wickedness lit his face. "How could he not? With you shouting and all."

"Bodie!" Doyle's eyes grew large. "Dear god, I didn't shout, did I?"

"Yeah you did," his partner said snickering. Bodie shrugged and ducked as Doyle tried to belt him. He swerved back and forth at speed until Doyle had to grab at the window frame to keep himself in his seat.

"All right, all right... "

Bodie snickered again and reluctantly slowed. They drove on in silence for a few more minutes before Doyle took up the subject again.

"So, you reckon he heard?"

Snorting, Bodie spared his partner a quick smile, while accelerating smoothly down the mostly empty roadway. "Nah... He's been known to yell at me for muttering when I was speaking right into the thing. I'll bet he thought it was transmission static."

Doyle ran a hand through his tangled mop of curls. He glared at Bodie in exasperation. "Christ. I'll do you for this..." he poked a threatening bony finger at his partner's nose.

"Hope so!" Bodie chirped brightly.

Doyle sagged back into his seat and watched the scenery rush by. The buildings grew older and more residential. They pulled into a sheltered drive and despite the narrowness, flew down the gravel alley at high speed. Bodie squealed to a stop by Anson's car.

\--**O**--

They climbed up the last flight of stairs and pulled open the stiff attic door. The room was lit by two old windows; the kind with slim borders of ruby glass. There was an old, rickety Windsor chair parked behind the usual CI5 camera setup, a box with field glasses and assorted junk and an old, green, military issue sleeping bag on the floor. Dust swirled in the air and it was very quiet, until Bodie sneezed wetly.

"Sorry, mate. Dust gets right up me hooter."

Doyle made a face and glared at his partner. He checked to make sure nothing had gotten on his clothes. "Yes. I do remember." He surveyed the attic, the frown not really lifting from his face. "Looks a bit primitive, doesn't it?"

"Yeah well... Didn't expect the Savoy, did you?"

"One day, I'd like to be surprised."

Doyle made his way to the camera and Bodie his way to where the food should be.

"Mmmm... strawberry jam sandwiches." Bodie held up one of the articles in question, winked and shoved the whole thing in his mouth.

Doyle shook his head and went back to the camera. He peered through it at the nondescript door of the house across the way. Everything was dark and there was no movement. He settled into the chair and quickly scanned the notebook sitting on the box. "Looks like a dull one. And where's Anson? Shouldn't he be here to brief us?"

Bodie fished out his R/T and tried to raise the worthy in question. His ears were greeted by the noisy flush of a toilet blasting out of the R/T speaker.

"Keep your hair on 3.7. I'll be up in a second. And keep your mitts out of the jam sandwiches."

Bodie flicked the R/T off and scooped up another sandwich. He strolled over to the window and squinted out, while getting crumbs of white bread in Doyle's hair.

"Is that you chewing or is there a threshing machine in here?"

"Know about threshing machines, do ya?"

"Oi! Are you getting crumbs in my hair?"

"Never."

Anson came through the open door to Bodie blowing through Doyle's hair. He rolled his eyes and immediately went to check the sandwich tin. "You miserable shit, I told you to lay off the strawberry."

Bodie beamed at him and popped the last piece in his mouth. In revenge, Anson took out a slim cigar and lit it. He blew vast amounts of smoke in their direction.

"Right. You two inherit these lovely premises and the job of observing number 44 over there."

"And what is supposed to be happening at number 44?" Doyle asked as he leaned back in the creaky chair and brushed his hand through his curls. White crumbs tumbled to the floor.

"There's some dandruff Doyle..." Bodie quickly danced away from the sharp, retaliatory slap seemingly aimed at his arse. Anson blew more smoke and shook his head.

"Nothing is happening at 44. No one's been in; no one's come out. I reckon this little lark is a favour being repaid by our fearless leader."

Bodie groaned inelegantly. Doyle shrugged out of his jacket and stretched. "How long have you been here?"

"Just this morning. What did you two do, I wonder, to merit this little trip?"

"Wish I knew, mate. Wouldn't do it again then, would I?" Bodie said, his face screwed up with an expression of distaste.

"C'mon, Bodie. I'll give you the lay of the land while Doyle gets himself settled."

\--**O**--

"Bit close in here... isn't it?" Bodie fanned himself. It was getting on to summer and the attic was hot. He slipped out of his jacket and laid it on the sleeping bag. They both had removed their weapons and Doyle sat in one of his old stretched out green tees, all long neck and arms. There was a glimmer of sweat, just under the curls around his ear. Bodie found himself moving to lick it off. At the sound of Doyle's voice, he jerked to an abrupt halt.

"Take some of that off then... You're always dressed like its winter."

Bodie pouted and ran a hand over his jumper. Doyle hadn't even turned his eyes away from the house.

"I've a delicate constitution," he complained.

"Get the jumper off, mate. I'm not smelling you all day."

"I'm wounded, Doyle. I do not stink."

Doyle barked out his opinion of that, then shifted in the chair and turned his hooded gaze towards his fidgeting partner.

"Bodie, you're dancing about like you need the loo. What's gotten into you?"

"Nothing... yet. You still owe me one from this morning then, don't ya?"

"That's what known as a sixty eight, my son."

"A what?"

"It's a sixty nine with someone not getting theirs." Doyle gave a mischievous wink.

"Oh ta very much."

"Nothing but the best for you."

"In that case..."

Bodie slipped closer and let his mouth roam over Doyle's neck. His lips settled right behind Doyle's ear as he blew lightly across his partner's reddish curls. The grey strands shone in the light from the window. He could not stop his tongue from sneaking out and tasting.

"Why don't you pull yourself away from that window for a tick..." Bodie murmered in his partner's less than shell-like ear.

Doyle sighed. He turned and stole a quick grope before getting out of the chair and herding a shocked Bodie into it.

"Thanks for taking over, mate. I need a stretch."

Doyle's bones cracked as he bent nearly backwards. Bodie's mouth watered at the delightful crotch that was shoved towards his face. His hand headed toward it but settled on a bum cheek instead. Doyle chuckled at Bodie's flushed skin.

"Problem?"

"You rotten sod."

Doyle observed his partner's face in the bright light of the window. Bodie's eyes glittered with lust and not just a little bit of love. Doyle almost felt bad about teasing him. He found it difficult not to simply toss his partner on the floor and tear the clothes from him, but they were on duty and they had long ago agreed not to cross that line. He settled on forcibly yanking the pale wooly jumper off Bodie's squirming form. It left Bodie sitting there, sweating and panting, with little bits of reflected ruby resting on his chest, across his cheek and in his dark, ruffled waves.

"I like the way those little red spots look on yeh."

Doyle traced a splotch of light on Bodie's chest with one long finger. He not so accidentally let his tracing trail over one of Bodie's well-concealed nipples. It hardened swiftly under his brushing touch and elicited a growl.

"Christ, Doyle!"

"Are you wearing something else under that!"

A short scuffle ensued while Doyle straddled Bodie's lap and forced open several buttons on his shirt. He yanked the white cotton out of the way to reveal that his partner was indeed wearing a sleeveless white undershirt. Snickers of derision bubbled out.

"C'mon mate. It's only us in here, and I've seen yeh in far less. You can get rid of the ouoter shirt, can't yeh?"

Without waiting for an answer, Doyle started wrestling Bodie out of his clothes. After a few moments tussle and some giggling, he managed to trap Bodie's arms in his sleeves when Bodie's stomach rumbled ominously.

"Sorry, I'm hungry," he said, trying to look pathetic. The two strawberry jam sandwiches had only staved off the inevitable.

"Too right, mate. Now I'm hungry as well," Doyle took a mouthful of neck and chewed for a moment. "But not for takeaway."

Bodie let a little moan escape as he wriggled under his partner's attack. He managed to get his wrists out of his cuffs and his hands around Doyle's broad shoulders. He only half heartedly tried to push Doyle away.

" I'm trying not to think about that. C'mon, Ray, no one's watching the house."

Doyle sighed as he forced himself to get out of Bodie's lap. He trailed his knuckles along Bodies cheek, then made his way to the sandwich container.

"Yeah, I know... Do we have anything in beside jam sandwiches?"

"I saved the cheese and pickle for you."

"You've never eaten all the others..."

Bodie looked mildly affronted. "A man is judged by his appetites, and you Doyle, would be found wanting.... "

"Yeah, cause there'd be nothing left after you'd got to it." Doyle gazed affectionately at Bodie. A smile burst over Bodie's face. He laughed and continued the joke.

"Ah c'mon Doyle. I'm a growing lad." He patted his stomach, "There's hardly enough there for one, let alone two."

"You're growing alright, growing right out of your clothes. It's not just me who's going to have a visit with Brian. Keep it up and you'll soon be your own two man team."

Doyle rooted through the box and picked out one of the cheese and pickle sandwiches for himself. He found a hidden ham sandwich and handed it to Bodie.

"Cheers!" Bodie chirped and he ripped open the paper.

Bodie turned his eyes back to the dark house and Doyle stretched out on the sleeping bag and turned his eyes to Bodie. He had finally tossed his shirt onto the pile on the sleeping bag . Doyle smiled at the unusual amount of skin that was revealed. Bodie's hands were lightly tanned but the farther up the arm you looked, the more porcelain the skin. The cut of the undershirt made his shoulders seem ever broader than they actually were. The work hardened muscles in his back stood out like marble carvings. Doyle leaned back and enjoyed both the sandwich and the view.

\--**O**--

The R/T shrilled. Bodie kept his eyes firmly on number 44 and let Doyle deal with it.

"4.5... 3.7... Come in."

"4.5."

"What have you to report?"

"No one's been in or out, sir."

"Sounds like us, mate," Bodie grumbled.

"What was that, 4.5?"

"Nothing, air. Bodie's complaining about something. You were saying?"

"Thank you, 4.5. Are you sure you're both finished?"

Bodie sat with his shoulders hunched as he mouthed Cowley's words back at the window. He felt his partner come up close behind him. He winced when Doyle cracked him one on the head with the butt of the R/T.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"Just keep the tomfoolery to a minimum and let me know as soon as there's a change."

"If there's a change."

"Indeed, 4.5. Out."

"Sir."

Doyle flicked the R/T off and threatened Bodie with it.

"Quiet you or we'll never get out of here."

Bodie ducked and laughed.

"Might not be so bad, eh? Nice chair, some nosh and a sleeping bag. I've had more fun with less." He winked lasciviously at Doyle.

"Yeah, but not while on the job."

They grinned at one another, disappointment evident on both faces. Bodie shifted out of the chair and let Doyle slide back in.

\--**O**--

Bodie lay dozing on the sleeping bag. He was hot, but too lazy to do anything about it. The light was beginning to fade and as he looked over at Doyle, the red light from the window edge jumped off his hair in ruby highlights. He smiled and let his eyelids droop closed.

"Nice this..."

"Eh?" Doyle's voice was soft.

"The quiet. It's nice. Not often we get time like this."

"Thought you'd be bored."

"Thought so, too. Been thinking."

"I knew I smelled smoke."

"Piss off, Ray."

Bodie lay back on the slippery surface of the sleeping bag. He pouted at the back of Doyle's head and slithered around trying to make himself comfortable. Several minutes of uncomfortable silence followed, until Doyle cleared his throat.

"Look, Bodie. I'm sorry."

"Should be." He let Doyle stew for a moment before continuing. "Don't you want to know what I was thinking about?"

"Probably not..."

"Tsk, tsk Doyle... I was considering the different ways I could collect on what you owed me."

Doyle's filthy chuckle made Bodie shiver. "Were yeh then? Come up with anything?"

"Well I had thought I might just ask for a return of the favour. Your lips always look so good wrapped around my cock, but I thought that since you left me hanging and wanting for a whole day, I should get something even better."

"Better?" Doyle's voice held just the slightest tone of interest.

"Mmmm yes. Maybe I'll bend you over the chair here. Wrap myself all around you and fuck you till beg me to stop."

"That might take some time."

Bodie chuckled. He liked to hear Doyle sounding so eager. "Think so eh? Maybe you should just lick me all over. You know, worship me like."

"Your head will swell."

Bodie countered with his own naughty laugh. "Too bloody right it will. But you worshipping me might alleviate that...after awhile anyway."

"How about I bend you over the chair and fuck you till you beg for mercy?"

Bodie shifted on the floor. He adjusted himself as the merest thought of Doyle bending him over anything sent shivers up and down his spine, not to mention other points. "Maybe after you lick me till I forget my name."

"Mmmm. All three or just one?"

"All three."

"Could take some time."

"Hope so."

Bodie lay back and thought some more. "Maybe I'll have you tie me up. Can't decide if I want ropes or scarves."

"You are a lazy bastard, aren't ya? If I tie you up, I have to do all the work."

"We're talking about you making up to me. I'm allowed to be as lazy as I want. Let's see..." Bodie ran his hand through his close cropped waves and grinned, "After you worship me, you can rub me all over with that fuzzy chest of yours."

He sprawled widely and wiggled his hips suggestively. Doyle spared him a glance then put his eye back to the camera.

"Bodie, go to sleep before you get us both too worked up to pay attention to what we're supposed to."

Bodie laughed and rolled over.

\--**O**--

"4.5?"

Bodie jerked awake at the sound of Cowley's voice over the R/T. It was dark now. He could only see Doyle's outline in the light of the street lamps coming in.

"4.5, sir."

"You two are through there. I'll expect your reports tomorrow."

"Sir..."

Bodie heard Doyle click off the R/T and toss it onto the box. It knocked hard against something.

"Off the hook then, are we?"

Doyle's throaty chuckle made Bodie's cock wake up and start to beg for attention. "Get"˜em off sunshine." Doyle purred, his voice full of evil promise.

"Eh?"

"Get"˜em off. It's time for you to collect on what you're owed."

Bodie saw the flash of a chipped tooth grin in the low light. Never one to miss an opportunity, he quickly reached for his shoelaces. Doyle's tee shirt smacked him in the head. He tossed it into the rapidly growing pile near his feet. He pulled his undershirt off and was shimmying out of his trousers, when he saw a flash of white. Doyle was already down to his pants.

"You randy toad! Eager are ya!" Bodie teased. He suddenly realised that those pants looked strangely out of place. "Oi! Since when do you wear pants! Those are mine!"

Doyle cackled and danced away. The too-large pants slipped to his knees. He kicked out of them. "And too bloody large! You're the size of an ox!"

Bodie chuckled and kicked out of his trousers. He lay back on the sleeping bag and teased his fingers over the waistband of his y-fronts. "That's one of the things you like best about me isn't it?"

Doyle stood over Bodie. His eyes raked possessively over all the lush creamy skin sprawled before him. He licked his lips and smiled. "One of"˜em... yeah."

Bodie's eyes glittered. He licked a finger and ran it over his chest. He tweaked a nipple and moaned. Doyle made a growling noise and threw himself on top of Bodie. They tussled for a bit, enjoying the skin on skin closeness and the challenge of getting Bodie out of his y fronts. Finally, Doyle caught Bodie's thick wrists and pinned them to the floor.

"Think I like that bondage idea of yours... but not today."

Doyle's lips latched on to Bodie's. Their tongues slipped back and forth, until Doyle broke the kiss and started tracing his tongue around Bodie's ear. He flicked it in and out, tickling his partner and making him shiver.

"Today, I think I'll make you forget all four of your names," he whispered before nibbling on a tempting portion of neck.

Bodie made happy noises and settled back on the slippery sleeping bag while Doyle made good on his claim. The nibbles on Bodie's neck got wanton sighs. The finger sucking got more giggles than sighs so was abandoned for an attack on Bodie's smooth, white chest. The long swipes of Doyle's tongue caused an increase in the frequency of wanton sighs. By the time Doyle got to the softness of Bodie's belly, there was a marked increase in noise and wriggling. When he added his hands to onslaught, the begging began.

"Ray, c'mon, please."

"What's your name?"

"Eh?"

"What's your name?"

"Bodie?"

Doyle tsked and teased his tongue down a muscular thigh. His fingers skirted around Bodie's eager cock, sending shivers up and down his body.

"Ray", please."

Doyle licked his way around Bodie's balls. His fingers lightly stroked Bodie's cock from base to tip. He timed each flick of the tongue with each stroke. Bodie's fingers pulled at his hair. Doyle chuckled and drew back slightly.

"What's your name?"

Bodie lay there panting, more sweat started to glisten in the low light. Fine pale skin shivered under Doyle's touch. His clouded blue eyes fixed on Doyle and he smiled.

"Name?"

"You can't ever wait, can yeh?"

Bodie chuckled, "Waited all day, didn't I? Told you I had a delicate constitution..." He moaned lushly as Doyle's lips teased the tip of his cock. "Christ, Ray!"

Doyle's hot mouth made short work of his partner. His lips and tongue drew curses and guttural yells from Bodie. His own cock made its needs known as he brushed it against one of Bodie's solid thighs. He took himself in hand and brought both of them to a satisfyingly liquid conclusion. They lay panting together for a few moments before the R/T shrilled at them.

"4.5? 3.7? What's all the commotion? We thought you two were finished there. Do you need assistance?"

They stared at the R/T in uncomprehending horror. It must have turned on again when Doyle tossed it aside.

"Shit...", sighed Bodie.

"Shit", snapped Doyle.

  
\--------   
END


End file.
